


The Curious Case of the Sodium Lamps

by hangsondoong



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode 2 Series 2, Episode Related, First Kiss, M/M, Poetry, The Hounds of Baskerville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangsondoong/pseuds/hangsondoong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thick, gooey light from the sodium lamps<br/>Like from some off-set Victorian novel<br/>Bled out over the cobblestones.<br/>Dartmoor, he’d acknowledged, was worthy of some poetry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock contemplates the Hounds case as he and John return to the inn.<br/>He had never intended his actions in Baskerville to hurt John; he hated that they had, but more than anything else, he wished to make up for his grievous mistake. After all, John was his doctor, his Watson, his friend... Spoilers for Hound, Ep. 2.2</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Case of the Sodium Lamps

Thick, gooey light from the sodium lamps  
Like from some off-set Victorian novel  
Bled out over the cobblestones.  
Dartmoor, he’d acknowledged, was worthy of some poetry.

In the dark of the moor  
They’d held each other close  
Watched the angry flames  
Lick the sky.  
Well that was one way of getting rid of a criminal. 

But the horror  
And pain  
And raw, numb terror  
He’d hurt John where even the Hound hadn’t

That wasn’t supposed to happen  
John wasn’t supposed to hurt  
To feel pain  
He’d not seen that through, he supposed.

So now, with  
The heavy weight of John  
Dragging down, down, down  
So tired, but warm, finished, spent?  
Rather nice. 

John mumbled against his shoulder  
Face pressed into the well-worn wool  
An accident, this-  
This pushing, but warmly  
Until tipping edgewise slips them  
Off Balance. 

And so he reaches out for  
The strong-weary arms in front of him  
He reaches out for John  
And he finds himself with both arms full  
To the brim

Breathe. Breathe. He told himself to Breathe.  
If heavily, well...

He looked down  
To where a sickly halo of yellow framed  
John’s face  
Tipped up, toward him. 

Warm eyes... hopeful?  
He had no way to tell.  
White text wrote novels of meaning  
Layers upon layers of impossible improbabilities:  
Lots about the present.  
Nothing about the future. 

He hesitated for a still moment  
Ivory warnings whizzing through  
Ramification  
Upon  
Ramification  
Before settling

He’d simply leaned down and pressed his own lips to John’s.

John moaned  
Reaching  
Up into inky curls  
To pull him closer, closer  
Dragging him down, down, down  
Into the welcoming heat. 

Feeling the remnants of  
Their argument in the graveyard that morning  
His tender words held out, an offering. But

> _The look on John’s face-  
>  Bitter because the coffee was too sweet  
>  But not bitter enough  
>  Because the worst was still coming  
>  Because John didn’t know.... _   
> 

The secret he was still keeping

He pulled back slightly  
Whispered “I’m sorry,” into the soft mouth pressed against his. 

John frowned  
The soft folds around caring, care-worn eyes  
Creases earned, they both knew, now  
Showing the last few days on little to no sleep  
Mumbling out the quiet acceptance of understanding 

Neither wanted to have that conversation right now-  
Too close, too near,  
Here in the darkness and fog of the nighttime. 

John began  
To shudder at the memory  
He held John tighter,  
Cradling John, John... John...  
Strong but broken shoulder  
Sturdy but untrustworthy leg...

And he pulled John away from the blackness of the moors,  
Into the warmth of himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, my dear Watson, for beta-ing this. BigBluePudding: to a certain very opportune ‘familiarity;’ may it serve us well!


End file.
